


What the Cat Dragged In

by rainlightlyn



Category: Coco (2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Attempting to hide a vampire, F/M, Falling In Love, First Meetings, Gen, Imelda is so done with all of them, Pepita the devil cat, Supernatural Elements, The twins are suspicious, Trying Patience, Twins meet Héctor, Unexpected Visitors, Vampires have sweet-tooths?, brothers being brothers, doesn't work, making assumptions, stuck together, what to do?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-15
Updated: 2019-06-15
Packaged: 2020-05-12 12:30:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19229188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainlightlyn/pseuds/rainlightlyn
Summary: Imelda was living a normal ordinary life, making shoes. She never expected what would happen after her cat brings in a most unusual creature. Stuck with her guest for the day, Imelda finds herself drawn more and more to this Héctor. What will happen when it comes time for him to leave?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Some of you may recognize this story from fanfiction.net. Yes, I am the same person as Dragons Weyr. After some consideration, I decided to post this story here as well. The chapters will be slightly different, but I hope you all enjoy.

“Mreow!” A demanding meow from the workshop window yanked Imelda’s attention away from the shoes she had been working on for hours. For some reason, the leather just wouldn’t fit together to her satisfaction. She refused to do a shoddy job of it though. She was a perfectionist and had a reputation to maintain. So if she had to stay up all night to get it right, she would!

A second yowl accompanied by the sound of claws on glass drew her eyes to the window. It was her cat, Pepita, back from one of her nightly rambles. It was dark enough outside that Imelda could only make out Pepita's glowing eyes and white paws.

With a smile, Imelda reached up to open the window for the grey tabby cat before going back to her work. She didn’t pay any attention as Pepita jumped in the window and landed on the workbench beside her.

That was until Pepita dropped the  _present_  she had brought home right on top of Imelda’s work.

A dead bat.

Imelda yelped and jumped away, giving her cat a disgusted look. Pepita had always been an avid hunter of small creatures. Mice, rats, shrews, even a mole once. Never birds thankfully. And she usually didn’t bring her kills into the house. Typically Imelda would find the remains on her back porch where she could dispose of them easily and without mess.

“Pepita. That was not funny.” She scolded. The cat just blinked at her before daintily washing a paw. Imelda rolled her eyes at the utter lack of remorse. She went to find a plastic bag so she could get rid of the dead body. There was no way she was going to pick up a dead  _anything_  with bare hands.

She felt a little sorry for the poor thing. Unlike most people, she liked bats. They ate mosquitoes and other bugs so they were useful to have around. And they were kinda cute in a way, not at all like little flying rats. And this one just happened to run afoul of  _her_  cat. She hoped it hadn’t suffered long.

When she went to pick it up, plastic bag over her hand, she got a shock. The  _dead_  bat gave a squeak and wriggled feebly. It  _wasn’t_  dead after all. It was very much  _alive_. Hurt (there were scratches from Pepita’s claws and teeth but hardly any blood), but alive at least.

 _Now what do I do?_  She thought as she stared at the creature. She had to do  _something_. Since the bat was alive, she couldn’t just dispose of it. It was kind of her fault it was hurt since it was  _her_  cat that had brought it in. She couldn’t leave it on her workbench either. And since it was well after midnight, it was also far too late to call animal control or someone who dealt with wildlife.

Finally Imelda rummaged around until she found an old shoebox. She made a sort of nest with some rags and put the bat in the box. She set the lid on top, but left it slightly askew so air could get in. That would have to do until morning. If the bat survived that long, she could call someone then. If it didn’t, well, Imelda did everything she could.

She left the box on the workbench, picked up Pepita, and left the workroom, shutting the door behind her. There was no way she would be able to concentrate on shoes now, so she might as well give up for the night and go to bed.


	2. Chapter 2

The next morning, Imelda woke up groggy. It was early, the sunlight streaming in through her window. Imelda always woke early, no matter how late she had stayed up. The curse of having an east facing window. She really should have gotten better curtains for her bedroom windows. Nice thick ones. She thought that most mornings, but never got around to changing anything.  

Imelda grumbled a little under her breath as she got up, put on her housecoat and slippers, and headed for the kitchen. She needed coffee. Pepita was sniffing at the door of the workroom, but followed Imelda to the kitchen without a fuss. The coffeemaker, which she had set up the evening before, was just finishing. Imelda filled Pepita’s food bowl, poured herself a mug of coffee, before heading to the workroom to check on the bat.   

“Are you still alive,  _pequeño_?” She asked as she opened the door, more to herself since obviously the bat couldn’t answer. Looking up, Imelda suddenly stopped short. And stared.  

And slammed the door shut.  

There was a man in her workroom. A  _strange_ man! There was a  _strange **man**_ in her house!   

Imelda took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and counted to ten. This wasn’t real. She was dreaming. She was just imagining that there was a man in there. A hallucination brought on by too little sleep. It couldn’t possibly be real. Imelda always locked her doors and she definitely remembered closing the window last night. Besides, she lived in a good neighborhood and had never heard of any break ins. She would open the door and nothing,  _no one_ , would be there.  

Nope.  

The man was sitting on her workbench, rubbing his head and looking very confused. He was sitting right where Imelda had left the box with the bat in it, in fact. His clothing was old and ragged, his dark hair messy, and he was barefoot, something that was almost as offensive to Imelda as the fact he was in her house in the first place.   

He finally noticed her standing in the doorway. “Oh! …ah,  _hola_. I… GAH!” Whatever he was going to say was cut off as he was forced to duck the coffee mug Imelda threw at his head. The mug hit the wall and broke, spilling coffee over the bench. The man quickly jumped down to avoid the spreading puddle. Standing up, he was a tall man, though as skinny as a twig, with a hawk-like nose and a small goatee on the end of his chin.   

He started to back away as Imelda advanced on him, slipper upraised. She was skilled in the art of  _la chancla_  after all, having learned it from her  _mamá._  The man opened his mouth to say something, but could only yelp as she delivered the first blow. “Who are you? How did you get in here?! What are you doing in my house?!”  

The man kept backing up until he ended up in a corner. “If you would just stop  _hitting_ me for a moment,  _señorita_ , I would  _tell_ you!” he cried desperately.  

Imelda paused her attack, slipper still held at the ready, and narrowed her eyes. “Start talking.”  

“Well…” he said, eyeing her warily, “My name is Héctor and I… I’m not really sure how I got in your house uninvited.” He looked away and muttered “That  _shouldn’t_ have happened.”  

As he frowned in thought, Imelda couldn’t help but rolled her eyes. Wonderful. A fool, or possibly a drunkard, had broken into her home. Well, maybe not a drunkard. Imelda couldn’t smell any reek of alcohol coming off him. But certainly a fool with memory problems. “Do you  _often_ wake up in the homes of strangers?” she asked skeptically, folding her arms across her chest. Just then she remembered something and looked towards the bench where she had left the box with the bat. Imelda was sure it had been right where the man had been sitting and indeed the torn and flattened remains of the box were there. No sign of the bat however. Imelda rounded on Héctor. “How could you!? Bad enough that Pepita brought the thing inside, but did you have to  _sit_  on that poor bat!?!”  

Héctor blinked and glanced at the bench as well. “Bat? Oh. That must have been what happened.” Noticing her furious expression, he quickly backpedaled. “It’s fine! The bat… it flew away! Yes. It was perfectly fine and just flew right out the window!”  

Imelda didn’t believe the reassuring grin he gave her for one second. She also ignored the little voice in her head that was wondering why it looked like he had fangs. “It just  _flew_  away?” That was a complete lie, she was sure. The bat had looked barely alive last night. Besides, workroom window had a wonky track and was tricky to open if you didn’t know how. She doubted that Héctor had been able to get it open from the outside, let the bat out, climb in, and close it again without Pepita alerting Imelda about the intruder.   

That thought distracted Imelda for a moment. Pepita should have alerted her. The cat didn’t like strangers and especially strange men. She didn’t even like it when Imelda’s brothers came by to visit and Pepita had known the twins all her life. And yet, she hadn’t warned about Héctor. Yes, she  _had_ been sniffing at the door, but Imelda had assumed that was because of the bat.  

Realizing she was getting distracted, she shook her head. “Whatever. It’s not important now. What  _is_ important is that you are going to get out of my house right now.”  

Héctor’s eyes got comically wide as she reached for his arm. “No! No, no, no, no, no, no!  _Por favor, señorita_. That is a bad idea. I can’t…” he begged desperately.   

Imelda ignored his protests, and the fact his skin was far colder than normal, as she attempted to drag him from the room. Attempted being the operative word. Héctor was far stronger than he looked and wouldn’t budge an inch. That made Imelda’s temper flare. She was no weak woman after all. She never relied on anyone to move things for her. If something needed to be moved, by God she moved it herself.  

From the outside, it was probably hilariously funny to watch. Imelda trying all her might to get this man out of her house. Héctor decidedly  _not_  moving, but practically begging Imelda to stop. And since it seemed  _he_  was as stubborn as  _she_ was, who knows how long the struggle would have gone on.  

The curtain covering the window moved slightly for a moment, letting in a shaft of sunlight reflected off the neighbor’s windows. It fell right across where Imelda’s hand was pulling on Héctor’s arm. Specifically where the end of his ragged sleeve stopped short of his wrist.  

Héctor snarled in pain, brown eyes flashing red for a moment as he finally yanked his arm free. He backed further into the corner and cradled his hand against his chest, panting slightly.  

Imelda froze in shock. She hadn’t expected a reaction like that at all. No normal person should have reacted like  _that_. Héctor’s hand had burned from just a brief second of sunlight. Burned  _badly_. Bad enough to blister which Imelda knew was a sign of third degree burns. And there was a faint sickly-sweet smell to the air, like burned meat.  

Suddenly all the little things she had ignored before came flooding back. Finding Héctor in her workroom instead of the bat. Héctor’s confusion over being in her home uninvited. His panic from her trying to throw him out. The fact his skin had felt  _cold_. The  ** _fangs_**.  

Héctor was not human.  

“Y-you… you are…” Imelda took a step back, swallowing hard. Fear, an emotion she rarely allowed herself, coursed through her. Her hand tightened around her slipper even though it was now a ridiculously pitiful weapon against something like him.  

A look of sadness joined the pain on Héctor’s face as his shoulders slumped. He let out a small sigh and nodded, not looking at her. “ _Sí_. I’m a vampire. A monster.” There was something in that defeated tone that tugged at Imelda’s heart. “ _Lo siento, señorita_. I swear I mean you no harm, but I’m afraid that I can’t leave just yet. Please, all I ask is that you allow me to stay until sunset.” Only then did he meet her eyes again. His were brown again. “ _Please_.”  

Even though she  _knew_ he was taller than her, at that moment Héctor looked small. The way he was curled in on himself, holding his injured hand. He looked like a kicked puppy, not the horrid evil creature of the night. And he hadn’t actually  _done_  anything to her. Well, he had lied about the bat, but all things considered that was understandable. It’s not like he could say  _he_ was the bat. Especially if he was trying not to reveal his true nature.  

Besides, throwing him out now would be the same as killing him. And Imelda just couldn’t bring herself to do that now, no matter  _what_ he was.  

“You promise? No funny business, right?” she eyed him carefully, trying to judge whether or not he was going to tell the truth. Should she trust him?  _Could_ she trust him?  

A faint look of hope filled his eyes and he placed his burned hand on his chest. “On my honour,  _señorita_.” Then his expression became slightly mischievous. “Though most would say I don’t have any. Being what I am after all.”  

She decided to ignore the bad joke. “Fine. But only until sunset.” Imelda looked at his hand again. That burn really did look bad. And painful, all blistered and even black around the edges. “Come on, then. Let me do something about that hand.”  

Héctor blinked at her, looked at his hand, and then back at her. “Why? It’ll heal in a couple of hours.”  

Imelda counted to ten and told herself  _not_  to lose her temper at the dangerous supernatural creature. It wasn’t a good idea. Okay, she had already gone after him with her slipper, but that was before she knew what he was. Besides that was a perfectly reasonable response to someone being in her house unexpectedly, vampire or not.  

Suddenly she was aware that she was still in her nightgown and housecoat, it was far too early, and she hadn’t even had a chance to drink any of her coffee before she had tried to bean him with her favourite mug. Gathering up what dignity she could, Imelda turned on her heel. “Well, don’t come crying to me if it gets infected then.” As soon as the words left her mouth, she realized how dumb that sounded. He was an immortal being, he probably couldn’t get infections. It didn’t help that she heard a muffled snicker behind her as she marched out of the workroom. 


	3. Chapter 3

A shower and clean jeans and t-shirt later, Imelda re-entered her kitchen to find Héctor having a staring contest with Pepita. The cat was sitting on the counter, switching her tail and rumbling in irritation. Héctor was perched on the edge of one of the kitchen chairs, giving the cat the most dubious expression one could give.

Sitting in her tidy little kitchen, the poor state of his clothing was even more apparent. The legs of the pinstripe pants were two different lengths. The jacket was missing a sleeve and the other was barely hanging on. The vest had no buttons, the kerchief around his neck was threadbare, and the dingy shirt was no better than the rest. And the style was decades old. Imelda didn’t even want to think about his bare feet. For a vampire, his appearance was not what she expected. Weren’t vampires supposed to be elegant and refined? Héctor looked more like a rag-bag. At least he appeared to be clean.

“Stop that! There will be no bloodshed in my kitchen.” Imelda snapped as she got out another mug for her coffee. She would have to clean up the mess the other one made in the workroom later.

“I would never…!” Héctor exclaimed, actually looking offended.

Imelda couldn’t help the smirk that twitched at the corners of her lips. “I wasn’t talking to you.” She replied as she stretched out a hand to scratch under Pepita’s chin. The cat gave her a look but accepted the caress. Imelda poured another cup of coffee and leaned back against the counter to drink it. She wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to get any closer to her _guest_ at the moment.

When she looked at him again, Héctor was staring at her with a look of intense longing. Was he… staring at her chest? Imelda narrowed her eyes suspiciously. He had promised not to harm her, but he had also admitted to not having any honour. She had thought that was a joke. “What?” she demanded warily.

“ _Por favor, señorita_ , I was just thinking that I could really use a drink.” And he smiled winningly at her. Whether he meant it to or not, that smile showed off just how long and sharp his fangs were. A moment later, Héctor seemed to realize what he had just said and the smile disappeared to be replaced with alarm. Quickly he added “Coffee! I meant coffee! Not… not the other thing! I'm good… for _that_. I would just… really love a cup of coffee…”

Imelda glanced down at her hands, which _were_ holding her mug in front of her chest. She glanced back at Héctor. “You can drink coffee?” It seemed silly to ask, but she had never heard any stories about vampires drinking anything besides blood.

Héctor shrugged. “Well, I can’t eat in the normal sense, but I can drink just about anything. Admittedly, to be nourishing, it does have to come from the _Living_. But that doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy the taste.”

That… actually made a little sense. So Imelda just dug out another mug and poured him a cup. Thankfully she had a large enough coffeemaker. She liked having several cups throughout the day. “What do you take in your coffee? Sugar? Creamer?”

The only warning she got that he had moved from the table was the sound of the chair scraping across the linoleum. Suddenly he was beside her at the counter, which made her jump. Héctor ducked his head sheepishly. “ _Lo siento_. I’ll take sugar if you have some to spare.”

She raised an eyebrow. She wouldn’t have offered if she didn’t have any. Wordlessly she handed him the sugar bowl, only stare as he put four heaping scoops into his mug. Imelda couldn’t stop herself from saying “Do you want some coffee to go with your sugar?”

A faint blush coloured his cheeks and he gave a slight chuckle. “What can I say? I have a bit of a sweet-tooth.” He lifted the mug, nodded to her, and took a sip. Imelda noticed his hand was looking better. Still red and painful looking, but not blistered or blackened. Héctor sighed happily. “Ah! _Muchas gracias, señorita._ ”

“Imelda.” She replied, realizing she had not given her name yet. It seemed rude not to, after all Héctor had given his already. At his curious look, she added “My name. It’s Imelda Rivera.”

“A beautiful name. A pleasure to make your acquaintance, _Señorita_ Imelda.”

Well, at least he was polite. Flirtatious but polite. The turn of phrase was a little old fashioned and it made Imelda wonder exactly how old Héctor was. He didn’t _look_ any older than her twenty-two years, but _that_ meant nothing. Would it be rude to ask? Imelda wasn’t sure. What sort of etiquette _was_ there when dealing with a vampire? She was sure that even her _mamá_ , always a stickler for such things, would be hard pressed to answer that.

It sort of struck Imelda at that moment. She had a vampire in her kitchen. A **_vampire_**. Standing not even two feet away, drinking coffee with her. It was ridiculous. Downright insane. _Why_ did her life have to turn into Bram Stoker’s imagination?

And what was she supposed to do with him _now_? Entertain him? She had work to do. Those shoes she had abandoned last night needed to be finished. Would he want to watch her work, or should she just park him on the couch to watch television so she could make shoes in peace. She could put him to work, she supposed, but did he have any experience with shoes at all, considering he wasn’t wearing any.

Then, if things weren’t weird enough, the doorbell rang.


	4. Chapter 4

Both of them turned to look in the direction of Imelda’s front door. For a moment, Imelda blanked on who could possibly be ringing her doorbell this early in the morning. It wouldn’t be a customer. She had a small shop in the plaza where she sold her shoes, took orders, and did fittings. She didn’t open on weekends due to needing that time to work on orders. It was unlikely to be a neighbour. Then Imelda remembered.

Her brothers.

Óscar and Felipe were supposed to come over today to help out, as they did every Saturday. They were slowly learning the basics of shoemaking and had all sorts of crazy ideas for new designs. Most of which Imelda shot down as soon as possible. Considering that people walked around with miniature computers in their pockets, there was no need for clocks in shoes.

Today, however, there was a slight problem with having her brothers there. A slight problem with sharp fangs and a thirst for blood. All of which was immaterial, since her brothers didn’t know any of that. All they would see was a strange **_man_** in Imelda’s kitchen drinking coffee with her. A man they didn’t know and Imelda had never mentioned before. And they would, of course, jump to a terrible conclusion. The _wrong_ one, but still a terrible conclusion.

“Oh, were you expecting company?” Héctor asked, setting his mug down. “Should I hide? I would suggest changing forms, but I’m pretty sure your devil cat would try to eat me again.”

She ignored the comment about her cat, though Pepita gave what sounded like an affirmative meow. “It’s my brothers.” She explained quickly. She set her mug down as well, grabbed his arm, and started pulling him from the kitchen. Thankfully he complied with her wishes and allowed her to drag him along.

“Is it still improper for a young lady to have a man visiting her house unsupervised?” An amused grin crossed his face. “You’re worried they may try to beat my up because they would think I have seduced you? I didn’t think you would care so much.”

She glared at him. “You have a far too high opinion of yourself. As if I would allow myself to be seduced by… by _anyone_.” She said the last part under her breath. The idea Óscar and Felipe could beat up anyone would have made her laugh under any other circumstances. Neither of the twins was built any better than Héctor and they didn’t have his supernatural strength. She saw him quirk an eyebrow at her choice of words. _Dios mio_ , she hoped he wasn’t going to take that as a challenge.

Héctor’s brow then furrowed. “If they’re not overprotective, what’s the problem?”

“The problem is that they will ask questions I'm sure neither of us wants to answer.” Imelda retorted as she pulled open a door. She did _not_ want to have to explain the teasing the twins would give her if they found out about Héctor. Imelda had never had much of a romantic life. There had only been one serious relationship. If Óscar and Felipe learned she had a man in her house, she would never hear the end of it. It wouldn’t matter that none of it was true.

The doorbell rang again and a muffled voice called out “Imelda?” There was a pause before a second nearly identical voice added “Is everything all right?”

“Just… just stay in here until I can send them away.” Imelda ordered as she hurriedly motioned him inside. That should work. She could send the twins out for supplies. More thread and leather. And there were a couple of finished orders. She could get them to deliver those and…

While she was busy thinking, Héctor took two steps into the room and immediately turned to face her. There was a look of confusion and mild alarm now. “Uh… Imelda? This is your bedroom.” He said, one hand raised a little like a student asking a question.

She rolled her eyes. “So what?” It was the best hiding place she could manage. The only other options were the workroom and bathroom, neither of which would do for obvious reasons. Her brothers would have no reason to go into her bedroom.

“ _So what_?” He repeated, giving her an unbelievable look. “So it won’t be any more awkward to explain if they find me in _here_?”

That might be a point, but there wasn’t time to argue about it. “They won’t.” She replied firmly. Then she heard the sound of keys in the door as her brothers let themselves in. Hurriedly she hissed “Just stay in here and _be quiet_.”

Héctor looked like he was going to say something, but Imelda quickly shut the door in his face. Just in time as the front door was opened by Felipe, Óscar standing at his shoulder as usual. Imelda whirled to face her brothers, trying to act as if she _wasn’t_ hiding anything. She wasn’t sure how successful she was since both were giving her very curious looks.

“Óscar. Felipe. I… _Lo siento_. I... I overslept.” It was a weak excuse. For all their lives, Imelda rarely if ever overslept. Briskly she moved away from her bedroom door, wiping her sweaty hands against her jeans.

The boys exchanged looks. “What’s going on, Imelda?” Óscar asked and Felipe added “We thought we heard you talking to someone.”

She hoped they didn’t notice how pale she was getting. “Oh… There’s no one here. I was… just talking to Pepita.” The cat, now sitting on her cat tree in the living room, gave an annoyed yowl. Whether Pepita was trying to make Imelda’s story more believable or was offended that she was being partly blamed for Imelda’s odd behaviour, she wasn’t sure.

Her brothers seemed to accept that explanation though. They shared another wordless look and shrugged in unison. Together, the three of them headed into the workroom. The shattered remains of Imelda’s coffee mug were still scattered on the workbench along with the almost dry puddle of coffee. Imelda winched when she saw that. She had forgotten about it in dealing with Héctor and then her brothers.

“How did…” “…that happen?” the two asked in their typical twin-speak.

“Oh, that was just…” _a vampire_ “…a rat. It startled me this morning and I ended up throwing my mug at it.” Imelda temporized. It was mostly true after all. She just hoped they wouldn’t ask about the crushed shoebox.

“Brave rat…” Óscar commented.

“… to risk coming into Pepita’s house.” Felipe put in.

_Technically, Pepita brought him in._ Imelda thought wryly. That thought did make her wonder why Pepita had done so. And how had the cat been able to _catch_ Héctor in the first place? “Never mind that. Help me clean it up and then we can get started.”

She began to gather the larger pieces of ceramic. Felipe went to get the broom and dustpan. Óscar followed to get a damp cloth to wipe up the coffee. A moment later, both called her to the kitchen. Irritated that the two couldn’t manage that much on their own, Imelda went after them. She came to an abrupt stop when she saw the expressions on their faces. Both looked like cats that had not only gotten away with the family parakeet, but a jug of cream and a fresh trout to boot. Óscar adjusted his glasses as Felipe stroked the edges of his thin mustache.

“ _Imelda_ …” they said in unison with identical smirks. “ _Who’s here_?”

Imelda swallowed. Then she narrowed her eyes and folded her arms across her chest. “I _told_ you.” She blustered, “No one’s here. What are you two talking about?”

If anything, their smirks got wider as they pointed at the counter. The counter where two mugs sat. Two half-full coffee mugs, one clearly marked by Imelda’s purple lipstick. The two coffee mugs she and Héctor had left there.

She floundered for an explanation, but she needn’t have bothered. The twins continued, each speaking in turn as was their habit. “

We already checked.” “The one cup is far too sweet.” “You always take your coffee black.” “And it’s still hot.” “This means they were left not too long ago.” “Probably just before we came in.” “And we didn’t hear anyone leave.” “That means whoever it is hasn’t left.” “So, _hermana_ , we have to ask again.”

“ _ **Who**_ is _here_?” They once more said in unison.

Her brothers really _were_ too clever for their own good. Imelda was usually very proud of how smart they were. They always got excellent grades in school, they were incredibly inventive, and they were intensely curious. Right at that moment, however, Imelda could wish their cleverness to the depths of Hell.

Just then, there was a loud crash, a bang, and a thud from the other room.

Imelda closed her eyes and gritted her teeth. Mentally she cursed whatever demon, saint, or witch doctor that had decided to _bless_ her with today. When she opened her eyes, she cursed again and bolted after her brothers.


	5. Chapter 5

When she reached the scene of the crime, her worse fears were confirmed. There was Héctor, sprawled on the floor between her bedroom and the bathroom. He was glaring at her cat. Pepita was sitting not too far away, the picture of feline innocence. Imelda’s brothers were staring at him with open mouthed astonishment.

“I was just using the _bathroom_ , you devil cat!” Héctor hissed as he sat up. “ _Aye, Dios mio,_ blasted thing.”

Imelda hung onto her temper by the merest thread. Was it so hard for him to follow orders? She had told him to stay where she left him and be quiet. Was that really too much to ask? “What are you _doing_?” She demanded. “ _Why_ did you need to use the bathroom?”

Héctor gave her a thoroughly exasperated look and shot back “I have an entirely liquid diet. What do you think?!”

She wasn’t sure which of her brothers made the slight choking noise as Imelda felt heat rush into her cheeks. It was enough to alerted Héctor to the fact they weren’t alone any more. He got that comically wide-eyed look again as he turned his attention to the twins. In the next instant he was on his feet, moving so fast that Imelda wasn’t even sure how it happened. He smiled at them, being careful to keep his lips closed over his teeth.

“ _Hola_ there, _chamacos_.” He said brightly, holding onto one of his wrists. “You must be _Señorita_ Imelda’s brothers. She’s told me so much about you.”

Imelda almost made a rude noise over that lie. She actually hadn’t told him anything beyond the fact she _had_ brothers. She hadn’t said they were her younger brothers or if she had more than two. She hadn’t even mentioned that they were twins.

He should be able to figure out that last one on his own, if he had any intelligence at all.

“Funny…” Felipe replied and Óscar added “…she hasn’t mentioned _you_.” Both shot her pointed looks and Imelda bit back a groan. She just knew what the two were thinking. _This_ was why she wanted Héctor to stay hidden.

“ _Hermanos_ ,” Imelda said slowly through gritted teeth. She didn’t bother much to hide her annoyance over the situation. “This is Héctor. Héctor, these are Óscar and Felipe.” And she pointed at each in turn even though it was unlikely that he would remember which was which. Hardly anyone outside of Imelda and their parents could, and even their _papá_ had trouble sometimes. “There. You’ve met. Now if you two don’t mind…”

But the twins weren’t listening to her. It was clear that they had already had a wicked idea that they were going to put into motion.

“Say, Héctor…” “It looked like we interrupted the two of you earlier.” “So rude of us, really.” “Perhaps we should…” “All sit down together and have a chat, all friendly-like.” “What a great idea, _hermano_.” “Why _gracias_ , _hermano_.”

Oh, no. No way. Not a chance. Not going to happen. “Absolutely _not_! That is…”

“…a _marvelous_ idea, _chamacos_.” Héctor said over top of Imelda’s protest. There was suddenly as much wicked amusement in his expression as in her brothers’.

That’s _it_! She was going to strangle all three of them. It didn’t matter if it would actually work on a vampire, she would find a way. She _really_ must have done something to anger some higher power. If only she knew what that was so she could apologize and stop all these things from happening.

The twins moved to bracket Héctor and escort him back into the kitchen. He deftly stepped away from them and closer to Imelda, offering his arm to her. She gave him her best _I-hate-you_ glare, shot the same one at the twins, and marched into the kitchen on her own. Pepita growled lowly at the three males and went back to her cat tree, ignoring all of them.


End file.
